


Auld lang syne

by Mrs_Patterson



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Patterson/pseuds/Mrs_Patterson
Summary: “So, we have a bit of a problem here. This place can’t obviously be reached by truck and due to the weather it is impossible to evacuate by helicopter, risk is too high. External support was requested, the mountain rescue service will not launch a helicopter in this conditions either.”Mute gets injured during a routine military exercise with the SAS in Wales. He fell down a ledge and hit his head hard. His condition is deteriorating but so is the weather, medical help will not be arriving until the next morning.Thatcher is worried sick about his mentee while he holds him until help arrives.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	1. Pen Y Fan

Four man trudged through the muddy grounds of the Brecon Beacons. Rainbow's SAS specialists had set out to Wales together to perform a routine military exercise. They were wearing the usual camo patterned uniforms of the british military. Their 55lb bergen the only thing giving them away as special forces to the well-trained eye. They were performing their annual routine exercise, walking 40 miles with their entire equipment within 24 hours. The rain was falling in greyish strings, making it hard to see more than a few meters. The regimental Sergeant Major Mike Baker was leading his troop through the barren landscape, his soaked beret hanging heavily in his forehead. They had been walking all day but the rain was making it really hard. It's been pelting down for hours. Ever since the four had exited the truck that brought them up the hills, the weather had gotten worse. Mute looked around, it was quite hard to see the way in front of him. He could hardly make out the outlines of Smoke and Sledge walking in front of him. The rain only contributed to the gloomy atmosphere and it was clear that they would have to build a shelter for the night soon. The sun was already starting to sink, painting the sky the slightest shade of orange. It was the only color other than green and grey they had seen all day. If Mute hadn't been on duty he might have even liked the view. While he kept trudging through the swampy landscape he racked his brain on how to solve the latest problem with his signal disruptor. He didn’t even realize that he had fallen behind again until he heard Thatcher’s voice over the wind and the rain.

“Chandar, still holding up?", Thatcher shouted over his shoulder, his coarse voice barely loud enough to be heard over the rain. He must have seen Mute trailing a few meters behind the others out of the corners of his eyes. Smoke and Sledge exchanged lopsided grins. While Thatcher considered the whole of the SAS his family, it was no secret that he was fond of the young intelligence officer. Mute hurried to close the gap and soon walked close behind Sledge and Smoke. "So, tell me mate, how far is it?", James shouted. "This exercise is bullshit". Thatcher let out an exasperated sigh and stopped to turn to Smoke. He replied as calmly as possible: " Porter, stay away from the cigarettes. That would make things a lot easier. And besides… As long as you have enough breath to complain, you can keep going". Mark pouted and a quick glance at Mute confirmed that the young yorkborn specialist felt the same. “I just want to get over and done with this.”, Smoke declared. Thatcher sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then I suggest you stop complaining and keep walking”, and with this, the oldest serving SAS member turned around and continued his way. “Come on guys, this is a piece of cake. More like a little stroll”, Sledge boasted with a broad grin. The tall scotsman seemed to enjoy himself immensely. Whenever they performed outdoor exercises, Seamus was the one to lift the spirit and even right now he looked like he could go on for hours. Unlike Mark, who was known the be a brainbox, but very much preferred to stay indoors and improve his gadget. He just lacked the audacity to complain about the exercise like Smoke did. 

One day these muppets would cause him to retire, Thatcher was sure of that. He thought about how many times he had walked these hills in all different kinds of weather conditions. How he failed selection the first time he applied and succeeded in the second try. How in the past years he supervised the selection process as a SAS officer. He had seen much more men failing than passing. And it had been Smoke of all men who passed selection with ease, that tosser. Thatcher wiped the rain from his forehead and shook his head in disbelief. Had somebody told him that he would grow fond of that loudmouth he wouldn’t have believed it. It was a whole different story with Mute though. Thatcher had recognized the driven young man early in the selection process. Sure, he sticked out like a sore thumb, he looked like he was fourteen years old and had a hard time making friends among the group. Thatcher had been worried more than once that he might not meet the expectations, especially when it came to the challenging requirements of physical strain. He had sat down a few times with Mute and encouraged him to go on, he had seen his potential quite early on and he really wanted him to pass selection where other officers questioned his abilities and suggested that he might try again another time. Thatcher had to admit that he took pride in the fact that Mute was walking along with his troop and that he had developed into a realiable and well-respected member of the Special Air Service as well as Team Rainbow.  
All these memories were a pleasant distraction from the cold seeping into his uniform and causing his aging joints to hurt. 

A few meters behind the regimental Sergeant Major the younger members followed his trail. They were exchanging teasing remarks and even Smoke’s mood had lifted significantly. With the fading daylight it was clear that they would soon set up their place for the night and that there would be something to eat. Even though with the heavy downpour the ration pack would probably not be heated up as it was unlikely they would manage to light a fire. But food was still something to look forward to. Smoke would probably try to steal Mute’s ration pack and Sledge would settle the friendly banter. Couldn’t be long now until Thatcher commanded them to build a place for the night, as the sun was sinking lower and lower. The shade of orange had almost vanished from the sky as the group reached a particularly narrow part of the ledge they were crossing. Mark had his right hand at the scarp and tried avoiding looking down the abyss to his left while he followed Smoke and Sledge. The athletic scotsman lead their group, followed by Smoke. The next thing Mute knew was that his foot was no longer where it was supposed to be, he lost his balance on the muddy path and fell over the ledge.

Thatcher’s train of thoughts was interrupted by a piercing yelp. He turned around to see Sledge and Smoke kneeling by the ledge, Mute was nowhere to be seen. “Oh fuck, no”, the only thought flashing through his mind. Thatcher stumbled over to Smoke and Sledge, only to see Mute’s twisted body lying face down at the base of the ledge. He estimated that the height difference had to be about 8 to 10 meters, that was more than enough to get seriously injured. It was suspiciously quiet except for the wind and the rain, Mute was lying still in a puddle of mud. It only took Thatcher a moment to throw his Bergen backpack aside and slide down the rocky descent, tearing his trousers in the process. He knelt next to Mute and carefully turned the younger man on his back. There is a gaping gush at his left temple, the oozing blood mixing with the mud and Mute’s dark hair. He carefully wiped the mud from Mute’s face and ran his fingers through the younger man’s hair to inspect the open head wound. “Hey, Mark!... Mark! Wake up mate!”, Thatcher shouted frantically, desperation lacing into his voice with every repetition. It was not until he felt somebody’s hands dig into his shoulders sharply that Thatcher became aware of his surrounding again.

“Stop! Mike, stop it! Stop shaking him!”, Sledge barked repeatedly until he finally reached Thatcher’s muddled brain and he carefully rests Mute’s head back on the ground. When did Sledge even managed to get down here? “Take a deep breath Mike, this isn’t helpful”, Sledge reminded Thatcher softly. “Smoke has the comms, he will call for medical help. Meanwhile the two of us will assess the situation and make sure that Mark is safe, alright?”. During his whole career Sledge had never seen somebody loose it like that, let alone an experience veteran like Thatcher. He was clearly emotionally involved.  
“Sledge turned around and shouted up to Smoke, who had remained on top of the ledge. “Oi, Smoke! … James…! We need medical help. Call the base, we need MEDEVAC… MEDEVAC! You got me?” James gave him a thumps up sign and disappeared out of Sledge’s field of vision.

Sledge got on his knees next to Mute and Thatcher. Mute was breathing regularly but didn’t show any sign of consciousness. Sledge checked his pulse just to be sure their teammate is okay and took a quick look into Mute’s eyes. “The pupils are equally dialated, that’s a good sign.”, he explained, patting Thatcher’s shoulder. The scotsman then took a look at the cut at Mute’s temple. “That’s quite deep actually, he probably hit a stone or something on the way down”, Sledge took appraise of the situation. “So, we perform a bloodsweep, recover him and keep him warm until MEDEVAC, how does that sound?”, he nudged Thatcher. “Won’t be long ‘til he wakes up, promise.”

“Careful down there!”, came Smoke’s voice from above. He throw the backpacks down the ledge and slid down the descent feet first. He was met with expectant faces and started explaining: “So, we have a bit of a problem here. This place can’t obviously be reached by truck and due to the weather it is impossible to evacuate by helicopter, risk is too high. External support was requested, the mountain rescue service will not launch a helicopter in this conditions either.” Thatcher blinked twice, then looked around in search for answers. As Sledge had the most experience when it came to basic medical issues, he took the lead. “Okay, skip the MEDEVAC for today. We keep Mark comfortable for the night and wait until medical help arrives. And we should really hurry up, when the sun is down we will have a hard time performing the blood sweep and getting Mark back up the ledge.”

Sledge went straight to town, examining Mute for further injuries. “The skull looks okay to me, apart from the temple. Mike, can you help me with the jacket? James, get us a torch please, we need some light here…. Thank you”. Sledge ran his hands down Mute’s torso and came to a halt at the ribs. He felt them again and a third time. “I think we have some broken ribs, there’s a little crunch here. But we should be fine as long as Mark keeps breathing regularly“, Sledge explained. “There might be some damage to the wrist.”, Sledge continued and changed to the lower extremities “… and some pretty bad bruises along the legs together with some torn skin, but that’s about it for the moment. Let’s carefully get him up before the last light disappears. “ While Smoke dug out more torches from the backpacks, Thatcher and Sledge got Mute ready for transporting him up the ledge.

Just as Thatcher started to relax he noticed movement from the corner of his eyes. There was a twitch of Mute’s hand, but just as Thatcher believed that he was regaining consciousness, Mute’s face started contorting. The young man threw his head back, his eyes were wide open. When Smoke looked up from the backpacks, Mute was jerking uncontrollably. His arms are spasming and so were his legs. Mute had lost complete control over his body. “Don’t touch him, let him seize. Just step back and make room.”; Thatcher ordered as he kicked some stones out of the way. Sledge automatically looked at his wrist watch and Smoke pulled the backpacks out of Mute’s way. Mute was still jerking, he must have bitten his tongue in the process as a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.  
“Holy shit, does this seizure ever stop?”, Thatcher asked after was seemed like an eternity. Sledge started looking worried as well but replied in his usual calm manner: “It’s been thirty seconds. This should be over any time soon.” Smoke looked at him in disbelief: “You an expert now? What makes you think that any of this is normal?” Sledge took a deep breath and explained: “This is not the first seizure I witness, it happens quite often in rugby. Our trainer told us what to do. But seriously, this seizure is lasting long time now”. Just as Thatcher was about to lose it Mute gradually stopped jerking, his head lolled to the side and his body went limb. As Thatcher, Sledge and Smoke ran to their injured colleague, the rain washed away the foaming mixture of blood and saliva.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mute suffered a seizure due to his head injury and the rest of the SAS has to come up with a plan to help him.

Thatcher was crouched beside Mute and held two fingers to his neck in order to check his vital signs. “Pulse seems okay. Porter, hand me the comms. I need to talk to the base. If Mark cannot be evacuated they need to send a medic.” Sledge looked at Thatcher before hesitantly reminding him that medical help would not arrive until the next morning, given that the troop had been walking all day from the nearest accessible point. “We need to give it a try”, Thatcher announced with a sigh. “I know what the chances are but I don’t like this one bit.” Thatcher got up and grabbed the radio unit from Smoke. He walked as far as the ledge allowed but was ultimately stopped after a few meters. No matter how hard Sledge and Smoke tried to listen to the conversation they had to accept that the heavy downpour swallowed the majority of the discussion.

Thatcher: Hereford Base operation centre, Hereford Base operation centre… This is Sergeant Major Baker speaking. Do you copy me?  
HBOC: This is Hereford Base operation centre.  
Thatcher: Our platoon has just informed you about a medical emergency. Specialist Chandar got injured during our training march.  
HBOC: Specialist Porter has informed us about the incident, what is your concern?  
Thatcher: We need medical assistance as quick as possible. If you cannot MEDEVAC, you have to send a medic. Things are not looking good here.  
HBOC: You are a few hours away from the nearest extraction spot. If would take a medic just as long to reach you as it would if we send a helicopter in the morning.  
Thatcher: I need to speak to the medic on duty…

Thatcher assembled his unit a few meters away from the still unconscious Mute and grabbed Smoke and Sledge by their shoulders. They stuck their heads together when Thatcher explained: “Okay, change of plans. We’re not moving Mark, he stays where he is until we have the equipment to safely retrieve him with medical help.” Sledge looked around before interjecting: “We need to take some precautions, in this weather conditions…” Thatcher was rubbing the bridge of his nose, he had to think quickly.   
“Okay, Mute stays where he is, but this ledge is too small for four men to spend the night.”, he began explaining before being interrupted by Smoke’s sarcastic comment: “We don’t need another… incident” Thatcher sighed and turned to Smoke “Well, thank you Porter. Here’s what we do: We split up, Chandar stays down here and we need someone to take care of him. The other two climb up and build a camp for the night. When the sun rises, these two will prepare a makeshift landing site and wait for the helicopter.”  
When Thatcher saw Smoke’s shit-eating grin he already knew that he would probably not like what he was going to say but he was not prepared for the younger man’s suggestion. Smoke proclaimed with utter conviction: “I know how to take care of drunk and unconscious people. I’ll stay with Mark!”. Thatcher blinked twice, turned around and walked to the edge of abyss. Sledge knew exactly that he had to take action or otherwise Thatcher would threw one of his famous tantrums. The tall scotsman walked up to Smoke and said: “Well thanks James, I guess Mike is taking care of him.” Thatcher turned around and walked up to the group. He mouthed an inaudible “Thank you” towards Sledge before continuing “Alright, last light will be gone in 10 to 15 minutes, we need to hurry up. We use our tarpaulin to build a cover from the rain, make sure to stay as dry as possible. Once we’re done, you two make sure to get something down your neck. As to Mark, we need to get him into dry clothes and protect him from the weather in the best possible way. I spoke to the medic, we have to make sure to check on Mute every few hours to see if he’s responding and assess his level of consciousness. And whatever happens, there will be no painkillers or food for him. The medic was hopeful that he might have a severe concussion but there will be thorough exams tomorrow. However there is a chance that Mark might have sustained more severe forms of injuries, like brain bleeding. In this case he might need surgery – which can only be performed if everyone sticks to the doctor’s instructions… Okay guys, let’s get to work”. With this, Thatcher called his hands and began unpacking his and Mark’s Bergen backpack. Sledge knelt beside him and caught the fresh garments that Thatcher fetched from Mute’s gear. In the meantime Smoke started building a makeshift tent, using the stone wall of the ledge as the rear wall. The scotsman started undressing his passed out colleague and informed Thatcher “I’m not really sure whether it will help keep him warm but we will definitely have to change his trousers. And don’t tell Smoke, otherwise he will remind our young friend forever and ever that he peed his pants. Even if it happened during a seizure”. Thatcher looked at Smoke who was still busy building a hideout. “No surprise that this feels like a fookin’ daycare…”, the old brit shook his head. He was still worried sick and the words of Hereford’s medic stills sounded in his head. Cerebral hemorrhage, possibility of permanent damage, disability. He shook his head once more and rubbed his eyes before continuing his work. Sledge saw his pained expression and halted his activity. He put his large hand on the older man’s shoulder and looked him deep in the eyes. “Hey, none of this is your fault.” The older brit tried to turn away but the scotsman towered over him and there was no getting out of his grip. Thatcher finally cleared his throat and responded “He wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me”. Sledge sighed and he understood. He was aware of the fact that Thatcher had his part in Mute’s selection process and that it was also part of the reason why he was so fond of the younger operator and monitored his progress closely. Sledge’s thoughts were interrupted by Thatcher’s worried voice. “Let’s be realistic. We’ve lost recruits up here”.  
“Mark’s not a recruit, he’s in the regiment. And he’s tougher than most officers thought. He will make it through this”. Sledge squeezed Thatcher’s shoulder and the older man replied with a smile: “Mark had it in him all the time, I was just boosting his morals.” “I know this place reminds you of the past. But hey, same place, different time. This is not like it used to be and Mark is not like any other recruit. I know we can bring him home”.


	3. the selection process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thatcher managed to light a fire to keep his injured colleague warm.  
Also he reminiscences...

Mike Baker carefully turned the grenade shaped object in his hands that Smoke had handed him before leaving. It was labeled as highly flammable, oxidizing and irritant. It was supposed to burn through the night, even in the pouring rain. Smoke had explained to Thatcher that it was basically a pocket campfire for situations where it would otherwise be impossible to light a fire and keep warm. Thatcher chuckled at himself for forgetting that Smoke was not only a real pain in the ass but also an excellent chemist. This time he seemed to have put his knowledge to good use. Thatcher read the instruction on the device carefully using his torchlight and swiftly pulled the ring just as he would have with a hand grenade. He carefully placed the device on the ground a few meters away from their makeshift tent and covered the small smoking flame from the heavy rain using his large hands. He sighed contently when the flame grew stronger despite the downpour and the radiating heat warmed his hands and face. The heat was pleasant but Thatcher was delighted that the flame simultaneously served as a source of light. This would make it much easier to look after Mute. Thatcher still knelt next to the flame and looked back to the tent. Mute was dressed in dry gear and still unconscious, his facial expression could be best described as plain. His growling stomach reminded Thatcher that he hadn’t eaten all day despite their physical exertion. He didn’t feel like eating, Mute’s accident was heavy on his mind but the experienced soldier knew that he had to keep up his strength. He would be of no use if he didn’t take care of himself. Thatcher rummaged through his Bergen backpack to get to his Operational Ration Pack. The tore the cardboard box open and started assembling his food. As Mute wasn’t allowed any food Baker decided it would be best to have his meal while he was nonsentient. Thatcher put the issued tabasco sauce into his canned menu and started eating. He had long stopped being picky and gobbled up his food in no time. Serving his whole life in the military had taught him to eat every food provided as quick as possible. He didn’t care what it was and he didn’t take the trouble to swap his rat pack in search for something he considered more tasty. Calories were calories in the end. After finishing his meal he grabbed his biscuit and an unbranded bar of chocolate and devoured them as well. He had made it a habit to not let anything go to waste and get anything down his neck while he had the chance. Thatcher chuckled to himself as he wondered how many of these rat packs he had eaten in his life and how he had gotten used to the army food that most other soldiers kept complaining about. When he enlisted in the military he was so malnourished and underweight that the recruitment officer wouldn’t let him join the armed forces at first. Apart from the salary 18 year old Mike Baker had been attracted to joining the military because they offered two meals a day and that was way better than what he had been getting the last months before enlisting. Baker loved what he was doing and didn’t even consider it a job, it was his vocation. But there was no denying that he started his career in the british army due to a lack of options. But Mute was a clever boy, he could have done anything. He graduated at age 12 and immediately found an internship that could have got him a career in an international and well-paid environment. With his knowledge and a PhD in Electrical Engineering he could have taught at university. But Mute had shrugged that off with his typical brashness. Thatcher still had his words in mind “Nah, codebreaking is what I want to do for a living. And government gets you access to the most interesting subjects. If I didn’t work for the GCHQ, I’d go straight to jail”. Mute’s grin spoke for itself and despite barely understanding a word of what exactly the young man was doing, Thatcher had no doubt that he could exploit information from literally everywhere. He decided that it was probably best if Mute used his talent to serve their home country rather than making money for a private company or even worse – some organization that was up to no good and used terrorist attacks to push their demands through. Mute could unquestionably be a little quirky sometimes but he was a powerful asset to the team. Whenever Mute hit the keyboard of his laptop, even other highly-skilled operators had a hard time to keep up with him and figure out how to counter his attacks. Mute was confident in his skills and so was Thatcher, even before he fully got to know the then recruit. Sergeant Major Baker was part of the recruitment team and spotted Mute immediately. He just stood out from the group of candidates. He looked like a teenager and Thatcher had checked his paperwork thrice to make sure there were no minors in the selection process. After reading his file he wondered even more what got the young man to the Special Forces Aptitude Test. He was undoubtedly clever but didn’t seem to fit right in. Thatcher had decided to keep an eye on him and had soon witnessed that Mark Chandar was an extremely driven young man. The only problem having been his physical resilience. Not that he was unathletic but the requirements were extremely strict. Mark had met the demands but he had always been very close to the exclusion criteria. When the other SAS officers suggested that he should try to get into the regiment at another try, Thatcher had decided to have a little chat with the recruit. He had sat Mute down to have a little chat after the recruit had come out of the shower. The SAS officer looked down at Chandar’s battered feet. By this time of the selection most of his toe nails were missing and the skin was starting to come off. There were some cuts and bruises as well. Even tough his own selection process was decades ago Thatcher remembered quiet clearly what all the walking had done to his feet and how he sat in his dorm one evening and pulled one loose toe nail after the other until not a single one was left. He looked at Mark and it was in that moment that Thatcher knew they were more alike than different.


End file.
